


One Drink Too Many

by TheKnaveOfHearts



Category: Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnaveOfHearts/pseuds/TheKnaveOfHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken night out after a convention develops back in the hotel room.<br/>(I suck at writing these summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Drink Too Many

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys, hope you enjoy this! I just had the idea in my head, and needed to get it out. Sorry for any spalling errors, this is not proof read and written on Notepad, so no spell-check either. Please do leave a comment if you enjoyed, or hated it.  
> I may add a second, more smutty chapter, or just leave it as a one-shot  
> -The Knave

"Fuck this stupid editing software!"  
Alex Smith pushed his chair away from his desk in frustration, throwing his head into his hands and groaning softly. It was past 9 pm, and he was still in YogTowers, trying to edit tomorrow's episode of GTA. Pretty much the whole Yogscast were leaving to go to Insomnia the next day, including Hatfilms, and this meant that they needed to prepare a backlog of videos for release while they were away.  
Over in the corner, Trott poked his head up, meerkat-like, over the edge of his cubicle. "How's it going over there?"  
"I would've thought it was pretty fucking obvious how well it's going."  
Trott made a sympathetic noise, and retreated back into his cubicle.

It took Smith another hour to finish his day's work, by which time he was the only one left in the office. As he stepped out of the doors into the street he lamented his decision not to bring a coat to work with him. The morning had been warm, summer-like even, and he hadn't anticipated having to stay this late. He pulled the hood of his jumper up over his head, shoved his hands deep into his pockets and set off on the fifteen minute work back to his flat. He was feeling pretty miserable. Dinner would be a microwaved ready meal, and tomorrow he would have to get up at an ungodly hour before being crammed into a small Fiat with Ross, Trott and Katie for the three hour trip to the exhibition centre where i60 was being held. Plus, he remembered with a groan, he had forgotten to put the heating on timer mode before he left for work that morning, and he had run out of coffee. A bleak, freezing cold evening and night awaited him.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"What?"  
"I said, do you want to...."  
Another loud scream erupted from a group of students a couple of metres away from them, conspiring with the ridiculously loud music in the club to completely drown out what Ross was trying to tell him. At that moment, Trott emerged, looking slightly dishevelled, from the crowd around the bar, clutching several drinks in his hands.  
"Drinks are here!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.  
All around him, the assorted members of the Yogscast who had decided to come and get smashed that night - an unsurprisingly large number - plunged forward to get dibs on the drinks they wanted. None of them had heard what Trott had said, they had merely seen his lips move, and guessed the most likely phrase from the context.  
"Thanks Chris!" yelled Lewis into Trott's ear.  
"No problem!" he replied. "They're all on me!"  
At that moment, a screech of feedback came on over the speakers, causing everyone to clutch their ears. This was replaced after a couple of seconds by a man's voice, proclaiming that "The Karaoke competition is now open!"  
Turps let out a squeal of delight, and grabbed Smith by the arm, dragging him towards the direction of the stage. The others let out a good-natured groan. "Not again Turps," said Kim, "Last time was so embarrassing."  
All who were present agreed, remembering the previous time Turps had entered a Karaoke tournament. He had ended up ripping his shirt off in excitement, before groin-thrusting all over the stage, singing Thriller. Needless to say, they had all got thrown out of the club.  
"Oh fuck it," said Trott, "Let's do it. You up for it Ross?"  
"I am if you are," the dark-haired man replied, "But please no Beiber like last time. That stuff is aural cancer."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To everyone's surprise, Turps and Smith had ended up winning the event, captivating the audience with a rendition of "I see Fire". Proudly, they had donned their plastic medals, let loose a tribal war cry, and set off with the rest of the group to get royally pissed, moving from club to club and bar to bar until they could move no more. Smith slumped down on a bus stop seat, and declared that he would not be moving until the morning. At this point Trott, the least drunk of the group, took control. Pulling Smith up onto his feet, and motioning to Katie and Ross to help, he declared that they would all be heading back to their hotel. All of the others agreed, and so they called up a taxi, and were soon back at the cheap chain hotel they were staying at.  
In the lobby, the other Yogs said their farewells and headed off to their rooms, while Smith, Trott, Ross and Katie, who were all on the top floor, called for the lift. By this point, Smith was beginning to feel a little bit more sober, and he could tell that he would have a huge hangover, and all the trimmings, the following morning, and was deeply regretting having that eighth round of drinks. Finally, the elevator signalled its arrival with a loud 'Ping!', and the four piled in.  
Their rooms were all next to each other, and had clearly been designed as a suite, seeing as they had connecting doors between them. When they had arrived at the Hotel that morning, they had opened these up so they could help one another get all their stuff ready, and so instead of going through their separate doors they all waited outside Ross' while he struggled to get the key into the lock, his natural clumsiness compounded by the alcohol in his bloodstream and the fact that the keyhole was half gunked-up with chewing gum. Eventually the door swung open on squeaky, un-oiled hinges, and they all entered the room. Katie immediately headed for the kettle and the instant coffee, while Ross collapsed onto his bed with a loud groan and Trott and Smith headed through the connecting door to get to their bathrooms. 

As Trott exited the bathroom, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans, he found Smith leaning against the wall outside, massaging his temples with his palms.  
"God Chris, I haven't got this drunk since when we were still living together."  
Chris laughed, remembering with fondness the days when they had all been single, hitting the clubs every weekend.  
"Those were the days," he said with a laugh, "though we did always feel like shit in the morning."  
"Do you remember what we used to do when we got drunk Trott?" asked Smith, moving in closer to his friend.  
Trott smiled.  
"Come home, collapse on the sofa and watch shitty game shows until we fell asleep, or..." Trott trailed off, looking uncertain now.  
"Or?" Smith prompted, a faint grin on his face.  
Trott looked at him. Smith looked back. Slowly, the ginger moved forwards until his face was only a couple of inches away from Trott.  
"I.." Trott's next words were forgotten as Smith suddenly pressed his lips to Trott's, capturing him in a passionate kiss. In a distant corner of Smith's mind the voice of his sober self was shouting desperately at him.  
"Stop it you twat!" It was shouting. "It was a moment of drunk fooling around. Trott has a girlfriend, and she's in the next room! You are going to regret this."

 

The voice was smothered and ignored as Trott began to respond, kissing Smith back. Smith could taste the alcohol in Trott's mouth, knew in the same distant part of himself that this was the only reason Trott was reciprocating, but he didn't care. He had missed this so much. He put one hand around Trott's waist, and stroked Trott's hair with the other, just like he used to before. 

Neither of them heard the door open. A Scottish voice, unheard, said happily "Anyone for coffee?" Katie was facing away from them, carrying a tray with two steaming mugs on it, having just pushed the door open with her back. The first thing that Trott and Smith heard, as they came up for air, was a quiet, distant "Oh", as she turned around, and saw them.


End file.
